Reverb
by Tenbris
Summary: A collection of oneshots for SoMa Week 2014. Chapter 4: Loyalty, in which hope is a dangerous thing.
1. Roommates

**A/N: **_So, I had no idea SoMa week was happening, so I haven't really prepared anything for it. Sorry! I'm going to try to catch up and do the days that I can, but no promises on getting all of the prompts done!_

* * *

**Roommates**

When Maka and Soul first partnered up, there was a sort of agreed-upon distance between them; she wanted to have a scythe as her partner, and he was glad to find someone who would not be frightened by his appearance, but neither of them was particularly comfortable with the other for their own reasons. When they signed the form finalizing their partnership, the problem of living quarters arose.

The receptionist, a rotund but well-meaning woman, smiled down at the pair. "The forms have all been filled out, save for one, dearies." She slid a final sheet on a clipboard toward them. "You have the option to live in the dorms within Shibusen, but that could be troublesome for you two." With her own pen she underlined a particular line reading, _Weapon and meister pairs of opposite sexes may live in their respective dormitories, but it is strongly encouraged for them to take up residence off-campus to develop closer bonds._

Maka let out a quiet strangled noise, somewhere between a whimper and groan. Teeth gritted into a grimace and eyebrows knitted together into a look of concern, she looked over at Soul. His hands were shoved even deeper into his pockets than she thought possible, and his bottom lip had been drawn into his mouth to be bitten down on. His shoulders pulled up around his ears and he mumbled, "Whatever, she can choose. Doesn' matter to me."

At hearing this, Maka stood up straighter. If he wanted it to be up to her, so be it. She was the meister, after all; he should get used to taking her orders! The sooner he got used to it the better; it would make working with a _guy_ easier if he was obedient. "We'll live in the dorms, please," she said, and pulled the form closer. As she circled the proper option (the _only_ option, really, in her opinion), the receptionist tried to say something to dissuade her, but Maka cut her off. "I know what I'm doing," she said. "We'll spend plenty of time together during classes and on campus. I just don't want to be around when he starts bringing _girlfriends_ around." The last part was spat with such malice that Soul couldn't help but snap his head around.

"Th' hell are you talking about?" he grumbled, scowling at his almost-official partner. "I don't give a shit about bringing people 'round, I'd rather just be alone." The receptionist was giving him a look of what seemed to be pity, so he looked away again. "'S fine with me if she wants to live separately, I want my own space anyways. Just don't make up stupid reasons for it."

"Maka, sweetheart, I know you're bitter about your father–"

"Men are _all_ scum," spat Maka, and she pushed the form over to Soul for him to sign.

What the hell had he gotten himself into? Soul huffed in confusion but signed the form anyways. Maka would probably get tired of him after a few days if she had daddy problems that badly. Just as well; he probably wouldn't fit in here either, and he'd be an outcast once again. Wonderful.

With some anxious motherly clucking and concerned directing, the pair were sent in separate directions to be shown to their dorms.

Soul flopped onto his mattress, which was cold without his sheets on it yet. Unpacking would have to wait. He groaned and looked at the ceiling, white and dull. Whatever. He'd do whatever it took to stay at Shibusen, even if he had to find a new meister. Maka was weird; she had seemed so excited to find out that he was a scythe, but then shit like this happened where she lumped him into a group with all males (which apparently meant "lecherous scumbags," from what he could gather). Girls were so _confusing _and _moody_.

* * *

"_Fuck_, Maka!"

Soul felt a ringing impact run through him as his scythe form clattered to the ground. After focusing for a few seconds on _limbs_ and _skin_, he managed to force his body back into human form, save for a blade-arm that disappeared a few seconds after. "Don't fucking drop me!" he snapped, rolling one shoulder to attempt to disperse the vibrations that seemed to still be reverberating within his bones. "That _hurts_, I don't care if I'm just a hunk of metal to you, I can still feel it!"

"You aren't just a hunk of metal, Soul, you're my partner!" Maka huffed and scowled down at him. "Now get up and transform, we have to try again."

She didn't even reach out her hand to help him up; she just looked down at him as if he was incompetent and a tool. Something in Soul snapped in that moment. A week and a half of this was enough. A week and a half of being treated like scum for something he had not done was more than enough.

Soul gritted his teeth together and stood up with a lurch. "You know what, Maka?" he snarled. "I'm done. You've dropped me like five times today, and you _know_ why! We're supposed to be trying to get along and connect our souls or _whatever_, and you won't even get near me when I'm not just a scythe! I'm _human_, dammit, and I don't really care if you hate me or whatever, but I didn't _do_ anything to make you hate me!" He took a steadying breath to calm his heart rate and continued, still a bundle of stress and nerves. "I am okay with being partners with you, no matter how fucking weird you are. I just want to have a partner. But I'll go solo and look for someone else if you aren't willing to give me a chance."

With that, Soul turned on his heel and left. Maka didn't even call out to stop him.

His heart was thudding loudly in his chest as the walls of Shibusen flew by him, and unconsciously his feet matched the same frantic rhythm. Shit. Had he fucked up his one chance at having a place here? Blood roared in his ears, and his face was hot with chagrin. Fuck. Just... _fuck_. He should have stayed quiet. He should have been a good hunk of metal and listened to Maka even though she didn't have any sort of concern or care for him.

Soul's shoulder bumped against someone else's side, and he stumbled. Before he could mumble a quick "sorry," a hand grasped his shoulder firmly and swiveled him around.

The man who had stopped him was tall with red hair, and his face was a little dopey, but he looked baffled. He squinted at Soul's face before asking, "You're... Maka's partner, right? Where is she? Why isn't she with you?"

Soul shrugged off the man's hand and scowled back up at him. "Hell if I know. Probably back in the training hall still. Don't know why you'd bother with her, though, she probably hates you just for being a dude just as much as she hates me for it." The man flinched back as if he had been burned, pain flashing behind his blue eyes, and Soul took that as his chance to flee back to his room. Back to being alone. And probably partnerless.

What the fuck ever.

* * *

Soul did not go to class the next day, nor did he go the day after that. What was the point, after all? Maka hated him, and there was nothing he could do about it. There weren't any solo meisters who were willing to partner up with him anyways.

Apparently he sucked at being a weapon just as much as he sucked at playing piano.

Out of nowhere, a timid tap sounded against his door. His eyes lazily floated over to the door. It was quiet outside, but the shadows of two feet were visible at the crack near the floor. Soul sat upright on his bed and threw the covers off of himself. He had missed two days of class; chances are he was in some sort of trouble. He pulled on a shirt (manners, of course) before sighing and opening the door.

It was Maka.

Her eyes were fixed on the floor, avoiding him even though _she_ had come to _his_ room, and her fingers played with the hem of her skirt. She looked... nervous. And maybe apologetic, but Soul did not want to get ahead of himself. Hell, he didn't honestly want much to do with her right now either way.

"What?" Hurt and frustrated or not, Soul had not intended for it to sound so harsh.

Maka fidgeted in the doorway, and her cheeks pinkened. "I... ran into my papa today," she mumbled. "And... he said that he met you the other day, and asked why I was being mean to you, that you said I hated you." Soul stiffened; that old man with the dopey face had been Maka's father? "...I don't hate you."

"Sure seems like it."

A small sound, almost like a whimper, slipped past Maka's lips. "I know. I'm sorry. I just... My papa is stupid, and... I don't hate you. I really don't."

Despite the lack of an actual explanation, Soul could read between the lines. "He's a cheater?" Maka nodded. "That's stupid of him. Don't blame you for bein' pissed at that. It's whatever." If Maka was not comfortable telling him more, but it was obvious that her hatred of men came from her father's past mistakes. It wasn't like he was without baggage as well.

Soul stuck out his hand. "Are we cool?"

Maka hesitated for a moment, but took his hand and smiled. "Yeah, we're cool. Oh, and, um..." Soul looked at her quizzically. "If it's okay with you..." Maka pulled something out of her jacket pocket. It looked to be a sheet of paper; makeup work, perhaps, for the classes he'd missed? "If it's okay with you, I'd like to live off-campus with you to get to know you better, Soul."

Woah.

Soul couldn't help but laugh.

Maka was a weird girl. A really weird, really messed up, really moody girl. But she was his partner, his meister, and his ticket to a new life. Who was he to turn her down?

"Sure." He grinned. "You'd better not be a crappy roommate."

"Hey, shut it!" she snapped back, face red. "You'd better be grateful I'm going to live with... with... a guy like you!"

"Yeah yeah yeah. Whatever."

Maybe it'd all work out after all.

* * *

Scratch that. It was not working out. It was not cool at all. Soul groaned and looked at his bedside clock in his –_their_– new apartment. Three in the morning. Wonderful. The pounding on their apartment's door had been going on for almost an hour, and Maka had already come to his room twice to apologize.

He smashed his pillow over his head harder to drown out the knocking and wailing, but the sound still came through loud and clear.

_"Makaaaaa! My darling, please! I didn't mean it like this! You don't have to live with your partner, you don't have to live with such a nasty boy! My precious daughter, I just want you to be pure and safe! Maka!"_

* * *

**A/N:** _Aaand there! A piece for SoMa week! I know it's a day (almost two) late, but it's something! I'm going to try to keep up with making day-late SoMa pieces this week to follow up, but I can't promise anything since I'd have to be pumping out chapters daily!_

_I hope you enjoyed this, and hopefully I'll be giving you something else to read tomorrow! I'd love to hear what you all think about these chapters, so please leave a review if you enjoyed it, and follow to read whatever other days I get around to finishing! Mwah!_


	2. Nosebleed

**A/N:** _This one's a little more drabble-y and less connected than the last, mostly because I don't have any wonderful ideas for this prompt (first thing that comes to mind has already been done by the lovely Professor Maka), but also because I'd love to catch up and do day three's prompt today as well, so I don't have the time to ponder the perfect chapter. We'll see how it goes, though!_

* * *

**Nosebleed**

Everything _hurt_.

Soul lounged on his bed, stretching his limbs as far as they would go without sending white-hot blades of pain through the wounds scattered across his body. His chest in particular ached. Without his bidding, Soul's fingers ghosted over the fresh layer of gauze wrapped across his torso. Nygus had assured him that it would heal quickly and barely leave a scar, thanks to the new ointment that she had ordered, but the ripped flesh burned with the memory of Giriko's chains tearing across his chest. His other wounds were less severe, like the gash across his left shoulder, but his body still ached, the angry flesh a painful reminder of the battles within the Book.

Maka had not made it out unscathed either, and Soul stewed in the misery of that thought. He had not been strong enough to stop Giriko alone, so Maka had to join the fight while she was struggling with whatever she had seen in the chapter of Envy. The battle with Noah after leaving the book wasn't exactly a piece of cake either; Noah's summons were exceptionally strong, and without Kid connecting the second Line of Sanzu they likely would have fallen. Being unable to protect Maka... Soul winced as his chest burned anew.

"Soul?"

He bolted upright at the sound of Maka's voice, but hissed in pain when the quick movement stretched his wounds. "Fuck," he groaned, eyes screwed shut, before taking a deep breath and looking to his doorway.

There stood Maka, wearing one of his larger t-shirts (a common occurrence after she was wounded; the loose fabric did not disturb the gauze that covered her wounds) and soft fleecy pajama pants. Her hair hung loose around her face, but Soul could not help but let his lips quirk upward when he noticed the silly looking waves where her hair ties had been. She shifted from one foot to the other, fidgeting, so Soul broke the silence. "What's up, Maka? You can come in."

She nodded once, then took careful steps into his room before perching lightly on the edge of his mattress. The silence fell around them once again, thick but not oppressive, so Soul just let his meister collect her thoughts until she was ready.

"I'm really sorry, Soul." Her voice was barely above a whisper, but the context was more than clear.

Soul shook his head and brushed the back of his hand against her cheek. "Don't be, Maka. I... saw stuff too. And I won't lie and say I'm not shaken up by it. We got past that battle, and it's okay now." His mind flashed to the mirror of Wes, of how he imagined his brother saw him, and his heart stuttered as a cold surge of adrenaline filled his veins. Was he running away, using Maka as an excuse to leave his life behind? "So, don't apologize. We're a team, and we can't be split up that easily." Her skin was smooth beneath his hand, and she leaned into the touch so he allowed his thumb to gently trace the edges of one of the bandages on her cheek. "I wouldn't have any other meister, Maka."

The edges of her lips twitched upward, and a contented sigh slipped past her lips when Soul's fingers traced along her jaw and down her neck. "Promise?"

"Promise."

She turned and smiled at him, and he could not help but smile back. Part of him knew that he should stop his roaming fingers that carefully traced her collarbone, shoulders, neck, and face, but they had almost died today, almost given in, almost broken, so he greedily memorized the feel of her skin. For the most part Maka seemed content to let him, although when his thumb brushed along her clavicle her cheeks pinkened ever so slightly and her breath hitched, so he moved away from that dangerous territory. That would have to wait for another day.

Maka's eyes, which had closed as she savored the contact, fluttered back open as his fingers brushed barely against her earlobe. Her eyes looked into his soul, pondering, and he could do nothing but stare back.

"There's something else I'm sorry about." Something like guilt but bordering on embarrassment was audible in Maka's voice, and Soul's eyebrows drew together in confusion. He quirked his head, questioning, and she continued. "I...," she hesitated, casting her eyes downward. "_I'msorryIalwaysjudgeyouaboutnosebleedsandIwon'tdoitagainifIcanhelpitbutnopromisesokay?_"

Soul was baffled. He blinked a few times, analyzing Maka's expression (her face had turned an amusing shade of red and she avoided meeting his eyes), then warily said, "So, uh... This isn't a trap, is it? I mean, that's... cool... I guess, but I don't _quite_ understand what brought this on." Maka groaned, burying her face in her hands, and her muffled response was barely audible.

"It's because of the book, okay?" she mumbled through her fingers. "That stupid... _succubus_ is what made me realize." Soul suddenly connected the dots in his mind; now that he thought back to the chapter of Lust, Maka _had_ been dazed by the scantily clad monster, and a thin trickle of blood had made its way to her top lip. But what did she...? "I wasn't attracted to her, not really, but I just couldn't _help_ it, and my body was doing... _things_... on its own, and–"

So _that_ was it. Soul laughed, a loud belly laugh that he instantly regretted as the skin on his chest stretched. "Fuckin'...! Ow. Uh." He coughed to clear out any further urges to laugh. "Yeah. Uh. That happens. It's not like I, uh... _want_ to react to stuff. It just... happens." Suddenly the covers on his bed were incredibly interesting, he discovered, and he joined Maka in examining every minute detail of the threads. Anything but talking about _arousal_ with his meister.

A few loaded seconds passed where neither weapon nor meister was willing to contribute further to the conversation but both had plenty to say, but Maka quickly decided that she was done here. She stood up without warning, startling Soul, and whirled to face the door. "So... I'm sorry," she said, and made her way to the hall. Before leaving, she twisted her neck to look back at her weapon and said, "Goodnight, Soul. You mean the world to me, really," and then she was gone.

* * *

**A/N:** _One of the true mysteries of the world is whether or not I'll get the third prompt, insanity, done before the end of the day. Who knows?_


	3. Insanity

**A/N: **_Alright, I managed to scrape together an idea for this one! It's a little different than my usual style, and it's likely going to end up kinda short, but honestly, I've already written a black blood chapter before (Deception in my story Staccato), and I didn't want to recycle that idea, so... here!_

_Rated T, but definitely on the more suggestive end of it. Beware!_

* * *

**Insanity**

His chest throbs when he looks at the moon.

The scar, nothing more than a line of pale, puckered flesh across his chest, lights aflame with pain every so often. A consultation with Professor Stein led to the conclusion that the times where Soul's scar ached were when Crona struggled to hold Asura in place. The teacher hypothesized that when the struggle became more frequent they would need to prepare for another battle, since likely Crona would be swallowed up by the Kishin. When Soul relayed this to Maka, she paled and looked pained.

He hates how the nights are darker now.

When they chase creatures of the shadows, monsters really, through the black of night Soul has to restrain the madness in the blood that courses through his veins. Each footstep that Maka takes matches with the beat of their resonance, an unconscious reaction to their bonded souls, but under the black moon Soul almost chokes on the insanity in the air. He doesn't say a word, and the beast is always slain, but that moon taunts him as much as the little red ogre that lies in his soul.

_You want to make her yours, don't you?_

He cannot deny the truth of it, so he does not respond to the condescending voice. Instead he watches his ceiling, counting the stucco dots and connecting them into shapes. When the dots form an eye, long and wide open, he turns onto his side and examines the threads of his pillow case. On nights where the moon, barely visible as-is, is covered with clouds, Soul sleeps peacefully, and his meister's soothing wavelength a few rooms over is easy to feel. When the night sky is clear, however, his chest throbs and the demon laughs.

_I could show you how to make her yours_.

The offer is tempting. The offer is incredibly tempting. Soul does not wish to pressure or frighten Maka, but his desire to hold her, to make her his own, burns almost as strongly as his hatred of the little creature that lives in his mind. But he takes solace in the presence of her wavelength, in the small touches that they exchange as they go on with their daily lives. Those small brushes of skin, the smiles that she gives him when he makes a snarky joke, the way that she slings her smooth legs over his lap while they watch television; they all placate the part of him that longs to be hers in a deeper, more intimate way.

He hates the ever-present danger of falling into insanity. His life is carefully balanced around calculated actions to avoid its siren song.

So, when one day Maka kisses him after a battle, resonance still ringing between their souls, he could not be blamed for tumbling over the edge.

Her lips were so soft and hot, and it was so _unexpected_, that the black blood, which Soul had carefully held in check while tapping into its power for the fight, surged through his veins with shocking power. He gasps, a sharp inhalation, perhaps because of the sudden pleasure his meister bestowed on him, but perhaps also because of the disappearance of his inhibitions.

He grins against her lips, teeth sharp and glistening, and pushes Maka against the wall of the alley. A surprised but not entirely displeased squeak escapes her, and Soul worries her bottom lip by sucking it into his mouth and gently probing it with his teeth. There is a vague sound of stuffy jazz in the background of his mind, but he can feel her _soul_, and she either was not prepared to or would not resist the black blood that began to course through her veins.

She stammers his name when his fingers dip below the edge of her skirt and dance along her hips, but it is as much encouragement as it is confusion. She knows what is happening, but she cannot find the strength to exorcise the insanity from their veins. Instead, she falls deeper into the desire he is projecting, and it is not an entirely unpleasant feeling.

When Maka's hips grind against his, Soul presses back harder and his hands move upward to fondle her breasts, bypassing her bra. Her hands guide his lips to her neck, her collarbone, her earlobe, and he eagerly obeys. She reaches beneath the back of his pants and his boxers to grab his ass and pull him closer, and his growls of pleasure make sweet music when mixed with her breathy moans.

The clouds part over the black moon, and the little red demon sits back to enjoy the show.

* * *

**A/N: **_Thanks to everyone who let me know what the other prompts are! I'll try to keep up!_


	4. Loyalty

**Loyalty**

Every time that those stupid letters tumbled out of Soul's locker or found themselves slipped between his books, Maka felt a wrenching pain in her gut. They were written on pastel stationary with flourishing penmanship, or scented, or filled with lengthy praise of Soul's powers (and physique), and it just _sickened_ her. The prose was always flowery and fantastical, but still Maka seethed. How dare they try to tempt her weapon away from her? How dare they fill his mind with thoughts of their adoration and devotion? How dare they have the _gall_ to suggest that he was ill suited to be paired with Maka?

Those letters, filled with stabs at her attitude and temper, stung the most, and when Soul would leave them on top of the trash to be taken out, she could not keep herself from dipping once again into that pain.

_"Soul,_

_ I know that you have turned down countless requests before, but I was hoping you would give me a chance. I've seen you and Maka interact, and she always seems so angry with you. Is that really healthy? She did make you into a Death Scythe (congratulations, by the way!), but don't you think that it's unfair that you're always the one in the wrong with her? I promise that I would treat you better, Soul._

_ Please give me a chance! If you can't give me that, maybe come with me to Deathbucks sometime? My treat."_

Maka's seething at the insinuations in the first part of the letter gave way to disgust at the second; the whole thing, insult-riddled as it was, was only a setup to ask Soul on a date! She scoffed. The nerve of some people, really.

_ "Soul,_

_ Please meet me behind the gym on Tuesday after fifth period. I've been working on this for a while, and I have finally finished making a gift for you. I hope that it accurately conveys my feelings to you and that you accept it. If you'd like, we could go out to tea after."_

More sappy crap. Maka's fingers twitched around the stationary; it was a pale green with embossed flowers along the edges, and a gentle floral scent wafted off of the paper. Whoever this girl was, she was going all-out to show off whatever "class" she could scrape together. After being announced as the Last Death Scythe whispers had shot around Shibusen that Soul "Eater" Evans, whose enigmatic origins had been previously hidden by his monicker, actually came from a high-class family. A few of the recent letters had played upon that, attempting to appeal to that side of the weapon. They obviously knew nothing about him; for years Soul had struggled to shake off any association with his family, and he was unlikely to go back to it now.

But sometimes...

_"Soul,"_

Sometimes the letters would truly strike something within Maka.

_ "I know that you would turn me down if I asked for you to partner with me. I know that you would do the same if I asked for you to go out with me. Even so, I wish that you would."_

Sometimes they would make her chest ache with echoes of something she didn't dare name.

_"But I know it's hopeless. Anyone who isn't deep in denial can tell that you aren't interested in being partnered with anyone but Maka. I can't honestly say that I understand, but it's still clear. The way that you look at her, the way that you go along with her plans to humor her, the way that she makes you laugh... I wish that that could be directed at me."_

Perhaps it was hope, long locked away.

_"Still, though, I'm glad that you've found someone to care about that much. I hope that your relationship is deeper than what it looks like to people like me; I'd hate to see you be hurt by her, but I'm sure that you're happy. Plus, you two make a wonderful team; if you had listened to one of us we likely would all be consumed by madness by now, right? So there is a bright side to it all. The world is a better place thanks to you and Maka."_

Hope that he would look her way.

_"There's just one thing I'd like to request of you, Soul."_

Hope that he felt that fluttering in his belly when they were together the way that she did.

_"I'd like for you to tell her. There's honestly no way that she doesn't feel the same way. If you can't look at me or any of the other girls the way that you look at her, don't just sit idly by. Do it so that you can be happy. Do it so that we can stop hoping. Do it for her, too, because she needs you as much as you need her. I'm sure it will work out. There is no doubt in my mind. She is just as dedicated to you as you are loyal to her."_

Hope bloomed in her chest, breaking out of whatever chains she used to keep it in check. And it was hope that made her blurt out, when Soul came out of his room, "I love you," letter still clutched tightly between her pale knuckles.

His eyes caught the letter that she grasped, but he quickly dismissed it in favor of closing the gap between them to hold her against his chest. Soul's breath was hot against her ear, and Maka could feel his heart pounding erratically in his chest. His grip was tight but comfortable, and his wavelength was vibrating with elation. She could not help but to cling tightly to him when he choked out an awed, "I love you too, Maka. I really do."

_"I'm sure you'll be happy together."_

* * *

**A/N: **_Made it in time! This one's short, but my Thursdays are always extremely busy, so I'm lucky I was able to put out anything at all. I hope you all enjoyed it!_


End file.
